The Professional
by Borat the Terrible
Summary: AU. Harry is a Squib, his brother is the BWL, and his parents are still alive. But what is Harry doing without magic? What happens when his brother comes to him desperate for help? Will he fight or will he stay anonymous? Is that even possible? War has a way of dragging everyone down with it. Guns over Magic! Slight bashing! Rating to be safe and for Language and slight gore.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1:**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. All rights belong to J.K. Rowling.**

"Fuck you."

"Please Harry we need you."

The person sitting across from me had a medium build, with a thin frame and slight muscles. His messy black hair was a rat's nest, much like mine would be if it was longer. He wore thick glasses which was the most normal piece of clothing on him. His wizard robes were fitted and well kept, like someone had run them through the wash a hundred times.

Or put a cleaning charm on them.

I looked at the almost man in front of me again.

"No Will"

His face falls.

"You don't understand our situation," he pleaded, "Voldemort keeps gaining strength, he is nearly unstoppable, his spies are everywhere, people keep dying."

I look into his eyes.

"I don't care."

His brows furrow. My experienced eye takes notice of his clenched fists and red ears.

"Fine." He says standing up and turning away. "Just don't come running to me when he starts coming after muggles. I'll probably be dead anyway."

My face hardens, "We'll be ready" I say.

"Maybe, but is that what you want?" He says opening the door.

"Wait."

He half turns.

"Will your parents be there?" I ask.

"Yes," he says quietly, "but I didn't tell them I was visiting you about this."

I nod and look away. "Thank you."

"You understand you won't be able to avoid this war for long. He'll come after muggles next, and then there'll be a genocide. Who the victims will be won't matter." Will's posture is defeated like he knows my answer."

I take a moment to consider this. Despite what the man in front of me believes, I've been watching Voldemort and his Death Eaters carefully. There is no doubt in my mind that the minute the ministry falls, new laws for muggles will come up. The Statute of Secrecy will come crumbling down, and there will be war. And once that starts the wizarding world will be rocked to its core.

"I have one question before you leave," I say, "Why me?"

He chuckles, "Why you? It's obvious isn't it?"

"Yes but I want to hear you say it."

This time he laughs, "Despite what everyone thinks about muggles, I know the key to winning this war lies with them. And you are the only person I know, muggle or magical, who has any experience at all with muggle warfare. And from what you've told me, you could take out the Minister of Magic with one eye closed and one hand behind your back. There is no one more qualified than you to beat Voldemort."

"Other than yourself, you mean?" I counter.

He glares at me, "I am inexperienced and you know it. The only reason I'm even involved with it is that stupid farce of a prophecy that somehow both Voldemort and Dumbledore believe in."

"So you don't think it's true?" I ask.

He looks conflicted, "I don't know." He says, "All I know is that Trelawney is a fraud, and if it were anything else I wouldn't even look twice at it."

I nod, "Fair enough I suppose."

"Well?" he prompts, "will you do it?"

"I already told you," I say sternly, "I can't get involved right now."

His expression falls, "very well then." He says stiffly, "If you change your mind you know how to find me."

"Yea I'll see you then," I say turning around, "Brother."

I hear the distinct crack of apparition as Will leaves and snort, what's the point of teleporting if you can't do it silently? It's like a giant red alarm that just announces whenever you enter somewhere. I lie down on my bed shaking my head.

Wizards.

They must be the most backward people on the earth. At least the terrorists in the Middle East have the decency to acknowledge that modern weapons are the most powerful tools of destruction in the world. I mean the best wizards can do in terms of true power is some crazy elemental shit. Muggles on the other had could blow up the planet if they tried hard enough. Wizards' refusal to even take note of anything muggle is the worst underestimation in history.

I'm brought out of my musings when my phone starts buzzing.

Shit. I forgot I have work today.

I pick up my phone, glance at the address, and the name, and snag my suitcase on the way out. Good thing I packed everything this morning. I shot a look at the clock, 3:50, perfect. Two hours there and two back, with three in-between for the job. I'll be back for a late dinner.

I jump on the Eu-rail train that happens to be a block over and head for Amsterdam.

On the way, I go over my mental list, Sniper rifle, check, semi-automatic, yep, assorted grenades, right here, I go down the list slowly.

This should be a fairly simple job, just a small level arms dealer, who made some deals with some unauthorized clients. Quick and easy, I'll have plenty of time to chill after, maybe even get laid.

I get off the train and make my way over to the limousine waiting for me.

I have to say, international crime organizations sure have style. They're the only ones who can afford good hit men like me anyway.

The drive takes maybe a half an hour, but it feels like eternity. That's how I always feel before combat, especially back when I was a righteous, ho-rah soldier with a stick up my ass a mile long.

The car stops in front of a dark alley that looks like the place mothers tell their kids to never go into.

My driver never spares me a glace but says, "The target should be in a small clearing around the corner, he's meeting with someone, but we don't care who it is. Take everyone out."

I nod, easy enough; low level dealers usually have three or four guys around them. While the other guys might have a few more, a well-placed flash-bang and some random gun fire should finish it quickly.

I snap a suppressor onto my SA-80 assault rifle, hey working with arms dealers has its perks, and hop out of the car. I swing my black trench coat around my shoulders and put on my gray beanie hat and round sunglasses so no one will recognize me, and stalk down the alley.

I find the clearing easy enough and immediately crouch behind a wall.

The target is there all right, and he's not alone. My estimate was spot on, he's got four thugs with him, but it's who he's talking to that makes me freeze.

There are five of them, wearing long black robes with the hoods up. But in the dim light of the late afternoon it's easy to make out the bone white skull masks that each of them wear.

Death Eaters

What the fuck are they doing here? They hate muggles, and no way in hell would they buy weapons from these guys, not when they have their precious magic.

They must have some sort of privacy ward around them because I can't hear a word they say.

As I watch however, one of the Death Munchers comes forward with a box. He opens it and I can observe seven rune stones inside. I remember my mother creating a few to put in the garden. They're basically substitutes for enchantments, they carry a single spell and you can use them to keep the spell going.

But what would a arms dealer want with them. I never learned anything about runes so I have no idea what those do, but in the hands of criminals it must not be good.

I realize I have been crouching for a while now and the deal is almost over. I'll have to move quickly.

I carefully lean down, drop my bag, and role a flash-bang into the middle of the group.

One…Two…THREE!

My bomb explodes out with a tremendous BANG! While the Death Eaters and thugs are reeling I spring into action.

My assault rifle comes up automatically, and I fire a short burst at the stunned Death Eaters. Two go down almost immediately but a third manages to cast a weak Protego. My bullets bounce off but I'm not worried, I may not be able to hit them, but they can't shoot me either, a Protego works both ways.

Instead I momentarily turn my attention to my real target, who is on the ground clutching his head in a desperate attempt to stop the ringing in his ears. I quickly put him down before turning back to the three Death Eaters who are still cowering behind the Protego. I look around, the other thugs have fled, not that I care. Guess their loyalty doesn't extend to dealings with the magical world.

The Death Eaters haven't moved from behind the shield.

I can't help it.

"Well, well, well, looks like we got ourselves a good ole' fashion Mexican Standoff." I say grinning with my best American accent.

"Do you know who we are, filthy muggle Scum!" shouts one of the wizards.

"No, not really," I say hefting my gun and pointing it at the still glowing sphere of gold, "You just look like a bunch of cultist freaks hiding behind some weird ass shield thing. Why don't you take it down and we'll find out who the real men are here."

The Death Eaters growl menacingly. The one on the right suddenly lunges out of the shield with a killing curse on his lips. His wand already turning an eerie green as the deadly magic gathered at its tip.

He made it about two steps before a powerful burst of molten hot metal exploded into his chest.

The other two dumb-asses just watch with shocked and frightened expressions as their buddy hits the floor. They are still holding the Protego.

"Idiot," I mutter under my breath, "must be all that inbreeding."

The other Death Eaters finally get impatient. "We'll just cast on him at the same time." One of them snarls.

I roll my eyes at the blatant lack of common sense. That's like rule one or something! Never tell your enemy what you're about to do. Duh

The one holding the Protego yells, "NOW!" He drops the spell and immediately I open fire.

My bullets strike both of them in the head before they can utter a word. As they fall however, I hear the sounds of sirens rapidly approaching. I quickly scan the area for any more enemies, grab my bag from where I dropped it, and turn to leave.

I suddenly hear a slight moan and I whip my head around just as the third Death Eater who I shot in the chest apparates out with a muffled crack. I curse violently under my breath.

This could have dire consequences. If Voldemort somehow figures out who I am, he'll come after me or decide that muggles have declared war on him. Or worse, if he decides that muggle weapons are indeed powerful and starts using them.

The second option would probably spell the end of humanity as Voldemort would waste no time putting the Imperious on some muggle general with access to nuclear codes. However, that is probably unlikely. What is more likely is that he finds me or starts attacking random muggles.

There is only one thing to do as I get back in the limo. I have to stop by Charing Cross Road tomorrow. I just hope old Tom remembers me.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2:**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. All rights belong to J.K. Rowling.**

The Leaky Cauldron is a nasty place.

You'd think that with all the magical cleaning powers of wizards they'd learn to take better care of their buildings.

It's around ten in the morning when I walk in. I got home last night at around midnight. We had barely escaped the police after I had charged back to the Limo, and only because we had a couple friendly cops on our side.

Always count on a crime boss to have one or two moles in the police.

Anyway, once I got home I immediately went to bed, it had been a long day, both physically and mentally, and I was exhausted. The next morning I slept in a little before getting some coffee and then blasting over to London. I knew I didn't have much of a window before the press got hold of the four dead Death Eaters. Voldy probably knew about it already. And once that happened I would not be safe anywhere in muggle England.

Say what you will about the magical world, but they do have some kick ass tracking spells, almost as good as military grade GPS.

I open the door to the Cauldron and get hit with a blast of moldy air.

The main room is gloomy and depressing, with peeling gray paint on the walls, and grimy tables. The bar itself looks as though it has never seen a mop, towel or even water in decades. The chairs and stools are rickety, like they'd be crushed if someone sat down quickly.

Now that I think about it, the whole room looks slanted, as if there'd been an earthquake recently. In fact I'd bet this entire building is kept from crashing down by a generous use of magic.

I move through the room ignoring the rest of the customers who are staring at my casual purple button down, blue jeans, and Adidas sneakers. I snort derisively at them, never heard of fashion?

Unlike the rest of the patrons, Tom, the barkeeper, is looking at me curiously, like he barely recognizes me but can't match my face to anyone. His hunched shoulder and dirty robes and apron fit right in with the atmosphere of the bar.

I nod at him as I sit down. Now I can feel their gazes on my back, must not get many single muggles in here.

I absently grab a newspaper that was lying on the table. As I turn the page over, looking carefully for anything of note my attention shifts to a short article.

Shit! How the fuck did they already get wind of last night.

There on the second page of the paper shows the picture of a spokesperson for the DMLE talking about how they found four dead Death Eaters with a muggle and signs of a struggle. Apparently one of the police officers who had investigated the disturbance was a squib, good to see my people making a name for themselves.

The squib had notified aurors immediately and they had identified the bodies as Death Eaters.

Also interesting is the aurors conclusion on the cause of death, "Auror spokesman, Mr. John Abbot has said that the DMLE suspect that all four victims took several piercing curses each to the head and upper torso."

Idiots, they can't recognize bullet wounds if a person was shot in front of them. Or maybe they just don't want to admit that non-magical bullets might have done more damage than most legal spells.

I'd bet the latter.

I look up as Tom stops in front of me.

"Scuse me sir, is there somethin I can get ya?"

"Hmm," I pretend to think, "I'm looking for my brother, is he on tap?"

"Wha's 'is name?" Tom replies with a slight grin.

"William Potter" I answer casually. I almost laugh at his shell shocked expression.

"Why! You mus' be young Harry! Haven' seen you since you were in 'ere with yer paren's." He grimaces slightly as if remembering something unpleasant, "Terrible business with yer magic tho ain' it."

It's my turn to grimace as I try to overlook the tactless question, "Yes, well I've gotten over it." I say carefully, "But that's not important, are you in contact with my brother?"

He looks a little apprehensive, as he glances around trying to be subtle. "Well I have spo'en to 'im once or twice, bu' I can' give you where he is, I's no place fer a non-magical you see." He looks up abashed and apologetic, giving me that look of pity that drove me out of my parents' house.

"I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself." I say rather heatedly, "I need to find my brother, he wants me to help him with a problem he's having."

Tom looks conflicted, "Well I'll do abou' anythin ta help William bu' I can' in good grace giv you his house, security risk an' all tha'." He's still giving me a look of pity.

I glare at him stiffly, and inwardly grin with satisfaction as he pales slightly, but I don't care, my patience is gone. "Very well" I hear myself say, "If you see him again please tell him I was looking for him."

I turn quickly barely seeing him nod his head, and stride out of the room towards Diagon Alley.

 **(AN: Sorry if I butchered the accent)**

As I step through the brick entrance watching the family, who had unknowingly let me through, scamper off excitedly, I start walking to the Owl Emporium down the street. If I can't find anyone to tell me where my brother is, I'll just have to owl him.

I'm pretty sure they do rentals here right?

As I walk down the street observing the colorful shops and wide cobblestone street, I can't help but think back to the last time I was here.

It was the day we found out I was a squib.

My parents had just taken me to Gringotts to get confirmed as the heir to house Potter. I remember my father was nearly bouncing up and down with excitement, while my mother was carrying baby Will, they didn't trust anyone with him after what happened with Pettigrew.

My father and I were brought into the Potter account manager's office, I remember the ceiling was barely over six feet high and my father had to stoop awkwardly to avoid hitting his head on it. I'm pretty sure the goblins did that on purpose.

Our account manager, Strongbone, asked me for three drops of blood to complete the ritual. But when he dripped it onto the paper, nothing happened. I was immediately shoved out the door to wait with my mother as my father and the goblin had a heated argument.

When we got home it was explained to me through the clenched teeth of my father.

I learned that the goblin parchment uses the potent magic contained in a wizard's or witch's blood to discover the person's inheritance. When nothing happened on the paper, it meant that I had no magic to give. I was a squib.

I had never seen my father more disappointed than in that moment. He looked like he was told he had won the Powerball jackpot only to lose the ticket.

I come out of my musings as I enter the Owl Emporium. The whole place is full of screeching birds that look like they have nothing better to do than yell and poop. The smell of the place nearly blasts me off my feet and my face must show it since the guy next to me snickers slightly.

I turn to glare at him, but my expression morphs to surprise as I take in the youthful face of Sirius Black.

I lost contact with him after I left my parents tender care, but before that he had been my godfather, and was one of the only ones I was on reasonable terms with.

"Sirius?" I hear myself say hesitantly, I'm not sure if he still remembers me, after all I have changed a lot in the last five years.

He turns sharply at the sound of his name, and looks intently into my face. His eyes trail down to take in my obviously muggle clothing.

"Do I know you?" He asks politely, but with an air of warning, which makes sense considering he is in a war.

"It's me," I say weakly, "Harry."

"Harry" Now he looks like he just swallowed a lemon. "What are you doing here? This is no place for muggles, even if you are a squib, and especially not at a time like this. If a Death Eater saw you, you'd be put down like a wild animal." He says all this very slowly like he's talking to a child, my face begins to heat up.

"I'm very capable of taking care of myself, Mr. Black." I say in the same patronizing voice. Wow the first time we've spoken in the past five years and he treats me like I'm still 14, and they wonder why I left.

"Come on Harry, you know how bad the prejudice against non-magicals is these days, I just don't want to see you hurt." His voice is bordering on pleading with a touch of exasperation.

"Look," I say getting fed up with the direction of the conversation, "I don't have to take this bullshit. All I need is to find my brother. Do you know where he is?"

Sirius looks pained, "Yes, but I don't know if you should see him right now, he's doing some special training for the war." He says the last part in a low whisper, looking around for any eavesdroppers. While I don't mind the caution, no one will hear us over the loud squawking all around us, as it is his whisper is nearly drowned out by the noise and I have to strain to catch it.

"Look Sirius," I say in a more forceful tone, "Will came to see me yesterday, to ask for my help in the war, I'm just accepting his offer. Now, can you take me to him or not?"

Sirius looks conflicted now, "Why would he ask you to help?" He says unconvinced.

I look angrily at him, "Take me to him and you'll find out." I snarl.

Sirius looks startled at my anger, "Fine, fine," he says patronizingly, "don't get your knickers in a twist." I growl at him, and he almost grins. He's still not taking me seriously.

"There's an Order meeting tonight," he whispers, "I'll meet you at the Leaky Caldron, and we'll aparate from there."

I shake my head affirmatively and we make our way out of the Emporium. He heads towards Gringotts, while I make my way back to muggle London.

 **Done:**

 **Just wanted to clarify some points:**

 **-This is an AU so it won't really follow cannon.**

 **-Both the Potter brothers are older than cannon and the war has been going on for longer.**

 **-This also means the ministry is doing a better job against Voldemort**

 **-Sirius never went to Azkaban since the Potters were alive and vouched for him.**

 **I will try and incorporate all this into the story a little more but for now this will give you a little background.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3:**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. All rights belong to J.K. Rowling.**

 **Here's the new chapter, sorry it's short and that it took so long.**

 **This story will only be updated occasionally, just letting you know.**

* * *

 _Flashback:_

 _"Hey dad, can you help me with this?", Will's immature voice sounds subdued._

 _Giving him a grin, James replies, "Of course son, is that your summer homework from Hogwarts?"._

 _Will looks forlorn, "Yea, we have to name ten different charms, their uses and how to cast them. It's so hard!"_

 _James looks amused, "Well, have you figured out which charms you're going to use?_

 _"No, I can only think of four." Will's twelve-year-old frame starts to shiver like he's about to burst into tears._

 _"There there, calm down kiddo, I know it seems hard now but the more frustrated you get the harder it will become." James' voice is soft and comforting._

 _"I know, I know, I just never thought that learning magic would be so hard and boring." Will's sniffles seem to decrease._

 _"At least you get to learn magic at all." I muttered under my breath._

 _Apparently, it wasn't as subtle as I wanted._

 _James turns to me half in anger, half in guilt, and says sternly, "Harry, that's a terrible thing to say to your brother, apologize and go to your room."_

 _I glance at my brother, he looks startled, as if he hadn't even thought about it._

 _James is looking at me expectantly, but I just glare at him and run out of the room._

* * *

I hate waiting.

Why can't Will just carry a mobile around like a normal person. Hell I'd even be ok if he had a pager.

Sirius forced me to wait for him at the Leaky Cauldron. I'm now sitting at one of the disgusting booths in the corner of the main room sipping a Firewhiskey and trying to remain inconspicuous behind yesterday's Daily Prophet. So far it seems to be working, the only looks I'm getting are from a Kneazle reading the newspaper, and an old crone who looks like she wants to steal my wallet.

Nothing suspicious.

Tom seems to glance in my direction every now and then as well. He seems worried that the moment a Death Eater walks through the door their supernatural muggle sense will tingle and they'll start shooting curses.

Newsflash Tom, Death Eaters aren't that smart.

Anyway, just as the clock is about to turn ten, when the meeting was supposed to start, Sirius walks into the room lazily, bids Tom a farewell, and makes for the door. I intercept him just as he puts his hand on the knob.

"Forgetting something Black?" I ask, my voice filled with sarcasm.

Sirius looks startled but studies me in an unconcerned fashion after taking in my muggle clothes. His expression turns to surprise when I remove my sunglasses, "Harry!" he exclaims loudly, "I was just looking for you, we need to go if we're going to make it to that meeting." I hide a snort as he tries to cover the fact that he forgot about me before frowning. "Shouldn't you, you know, keep it down?" I ask glancing subtly around. "Why?" he asks puzzled, "There are no listening charms around, I checked."

I barely resist the urge to face-palm.

"Never mind, let's just get out of here" I say. I'm really hoping Sirius didn't have a big influence on my brother.

* * *

Grimmauld Place looks exactly like it did when I used to come as a kid.

As Sirius leads us through the main hall I can see the evidence of how old and unkempt this place is. The peeling floral wall paper looks like it might have once been white and purple but age has turned to a near solid gray. Cracks give the corners an unsteady feel, like they might be more suited to a prison. There are no windows, and the whole hall is lit by light spilling out of the doorways on either side. It's easy to see that people live here though. For one, whenever someone moves upstairs, the whole ceiling shakes and the smallest amount of dust falls. I can tell that without magic this place wouldn't last a week.

Sirius looks slightly abashed, "Well it was definitely worse before I inherited it."

I give him a look, "Sirius I've been here before, you know, I remember."

Now he just looks embarrassed, "Oh right, sorry I forgot."

I ignore the unintended insult, and look around the place, "So where's this meeting?" I ask.

This seems to wake Sirius up, "Oh! Just through here."

He leads me through the second door on the right and with an unnecessary flourish of his hand presents me with a large empty room complete with a long table.

I look around unimpressed, "Is this some kind of joke?" I say looking at Sirius, "Where is everyone? The meeting was supposed to start 5 minutes ago."

He looks abashed again, "Well they usually don't show up on time. I mean even Dumbledore is always at least a half hour late."

I stare at him exasperatedly, "What kind of operation are you running? How do you expect to keep up with the Dark Lord if you don't even have the discipline to show up at meeting on time."

I'm honestly shocked by this, no military force, no matter how small, would ever maintain discipline this badly. How do they organize themselves or, more importantly, how do they fight together if they can't be bothered to show up at meetings on time?

A gruff voice answers my outburst, "We don't keep up with the Dark Lord. It's been a problem with this Order since it was founded."

I turn, startled. The man standing in the doorway, looks like someone put his face in a meat grinder. A mane of pale dirty red hair frames a squat face complete with several scars. He is dressed in uninspired wizard robes and carries a gnarled cane. The strangest part of him though, was a massive swirling eyeball placed over his left eye like a gruesome eyepatch.

I knew who it was immediately, "Mad-Eye Moody I presume?" I say politely but still stilted at the former revelation.

"Aye lad," he says frowning, "And who might you be? I don't think I've seen you around here before." Great, now he's fingering his wand.

"My name is Harry Potter, I'm looking for my brother, Sirius invited me." I say quickly, I could already tell this was not someone I wanted to piss off.

Mad-Eye evaluates me carefully, "Black, have you checked him for Polyjuice?"

Sirius looks startled at being addressed so abruptly. "Well…" he hesitates, "Of course, I remember now, I checked him just before we apparated here." His lie might have been more convincing to a five-year-old.

"Did you now?" Moody asks sarcastically, "Well then maybe you won't mind me checking again." He looks angrily at Sirius, then turns to me as if to test my trustworthiness.

I shrug, "Go ahead, I got nothing to hide."

Moody's expression doesn't change at the statement, he removes his wand and casts a few diagnostic spells.

"He's clean," he announces after a solid five minutes of casting, man this guy is paranoid.

Moody turns back to Sirius and glares, "You're very lucky Black, if this had turned out to be an imposter, I would've killed you myself." He glances at me again. "As it is, we still don't know who this guy is, or what his motives are. For all we know he could be a spy for the Dark Lord."

I meet his gaze evenly, "I don't think the Dark Lord uses squibs for spies, Moody."

Ha, that shut him up.

Moody seems to reevaluate me, before turning back to Sirius, "What the hell did you bring him here for. This is no place for a squib." He says angrily, "I say we just Obliviate him then toss him back out on the street."

Sirius seems to take offence to that, "Hey! He's Will's brother. Apparently Will asked him to help us."

Moody sneers, "How the hell can a squib help us defeat the Dark Lord?"

I stare back at him coolly, "I have plenty of experience with terrorism." They both look at me sharply, "Not to mention I'm probably better disciplined than all of your vigilantes combined." I add on as an afterthought.

Moody sneers again, "And what experience with terrorist would a squib like you have?"

I meet his eyes, or eye as it were, evenly, "Well considering the British military has been fighting in the Middle East for almost a decade now, I think we know what we're doing."

Moody and Sirius seem surprised.

"You joined the military?" Sirius asks, "When?"

I shrug, "If you and my parents had been paying any attention to what I was doing you would have known that I entered the Royal Military Academy right out of secondary school. I've been doing it ever since."

I leave out the fact that I left the military a two years ago.

I catch Moody's eye, the real one, he doesn't say anything but there's a tiny expression on the grizzly auror's face.

Is that...respect? It's gone before I can make it out.

Instead, he turns to the rest of the room, "We should get this meeting started.", he ambles over to one of the chairs alone the far side of the table.

He's right, while we were talking about five other people showed up. They keep glancing at us subtly, or at least trying to be subtle.

As I take my seat at the end of the table I get a lot of curious looks but no one says anything.

I guess if I'm good enough for Moody, I'm good enough for them.

My presence is slowly forgotten as more and more people filter into the room and the level of conversation rises.

I observe quietly as different people arrive, looking for familiar faces.

There's an attractive woman with bright pink hair arguing with a large red headed woman who emits a mother hen vibe. I'm pretty sure her son was my brother's best friend when we were kids.

I also recognize Kingsley Shacklebolt talking in low tones with Moody, they periodically glance up at me and whisper some more.

Finally, after almost a half hour of waiting, Albus Dumbledore graces us with his presence.

"Welcome all, friends and allies" he begins unnecessarily dramatically. "I know you all have places to be and things to do so we'll just jump right in. Let's start with reports."

He turns to Lupin, "How are you doing with the werewolf packs Remus?"

Lupin somehow pales even more, "It doesn't look good headmaster. We already know that Greyback's pack joined the Dark Lord a year ago, and since then the other packs are more inclined to listen to him instead of a lone wolf like me." He drops his head slightly, "I fear it won't be long before more decide to join as well."

Great, I think to myself, just what we need, more enemies.

The headmaster only nods slightly, "Thank you Remus, we will continue to look out for this problem. Does anyone else have news they wish to share?" He looks around the room.

Just then the door bursts open. Everyone cranes their necks to see what the trouble is only to see my brother, striding in looking extremely annoyed.

"Don't worry," Will says sharply, "we're here."

My brother looks over his shoulder in frustration, "Come on guys, we're already very late as it is, the least you can do is try and move a little faster."

"We're coming," says a new voice, one that I haven't heard in a very long time, "Give us a second."

As Lily and James Potter finally enter to room Will turns to the headmaster, "Sorry we're late sir. Won't happen again."

Dumbledore just smiles, "Don't make promises you can't keep Will." He says eyes twinkling, "But no harm done, why don't you take a seat and we'll continue."

But Will had stopped paying attention to Dumbledore and was staring directly at me in shock.

"Harry?" he asks.


End file.
